Chapter 22
Chapter 22
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: Daily Outing Log: Instructor
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Mophin was a money-grubber.
In fact, Mophin hadn't realized he was a money-grubber until he became a slave.
The reason was simple.
His family had been dirt poor, and the only money he'd ever held in his hands was a few coppers.
Even those quickly turned into thick gruel.
So,
the day Mophin realized he was a money-grubber
was today, when he first encountered Talant currency.
"I've never felt this emotion before....... This is...... love?"
To confront the love within oneself requires a long time and sincere effort.
To realize that one loves money,
one must first properly touch 'money'.
Feel the dizzying texture against the skin and the pounding of the heart,
regret it when it's out of sight,
and when closing one's eyes brings its shimmering image to mind,
that is when a person truly realizes love.
For Mophin, money was that object.
The closer you look, the prettier it is.
The longer you look, the more lovable it becomes.
Money is the same.
"My comrades. I love Talant. I love counting bundle after bundle of Talant, so many that I can't tally them at a glance, one by one. I especially love it when they're so heavy in my hands that I drop them several times while counting and have to start over. The more Talant, the better. Talant is truly the grace and blessing our master has bestowed upon us."
Mophin didn't deny that he was a money-grubber.
On the contrary, he actively preached his philosophy.
The position of instructor for new slaves
was like a bat, despised by both overseers and slaves alike,
but it was perfectly suited for venting his shallow philosophy and bloated ego.
"I'm Diana Goldenwood, the one who will now oversee the slaves' education. I look forward to working with you all."
Unfortunately,
Mophin's nefarious plan to spread plebeian capitalist philosophy to the slaves
had to come to a halt with the arrival of the new overseer.
The new overseer was a genuine noblewoman.
Not some fake noble using a pseudonym without permission,
but a real one recognized by the capital.
And Mophin wasn't foolish enough to challenge a noble's educational policies as a mere slave.
"Wow. You're learning so quickly?"
"Thank you! It's all thanks to Your Excellency's excellent instruction!"
On the contrary, Mophin embraced the new order of 'etiquette' more eagerly than anyone.
The instructor badge allowed Mophin to learn and master etiquette before the other slaves.
Since the overseer couldn't personally educate every slave,
a 'smart' slave who learned etiquette first and taught the others was essential.
Mophin became that smart slave.
Thanks to these efforts,
Mophin was able to remain in the position of new slave instructor.
And beyond that,
through a few minor 'side gigs' abusing his instructor privileges,
Mophin became one of the slaves with the most Talant.
"Ah! Choking on the master's grace......!"
Mophin was a money-grubber.
He had a voracious greed for money.
That's how he amassed more Talant than other slaves.
Not through remarkable talent or vicious cunning,
but through a simpler, more blatant desire.
That was all a mere slave needed.
With that, he could eat soft white bread anytime,
fill up on meat stew,
or get plenty of straw to cover himself in the cold winter.
Yes.
If Mophin were just a mere slave who 'liked money',
he might have been satisfied with that.
"Ahh. This is called an outing permit. Pay Talant, and you can spend a day freely in society."
"Outing permit......?"
But Mophin was no mere slave.
"How far can one go? What places are allowed?"
"Tch. There's a notice on the bulletin board with all the details. Figure it out yourself."
"......"
Mophin was a slave from a free family.
He wasn't an orphan or a war captive.
He became a slave
because he sold himself to a merchant for his family's sake.
In other words, he had family.
Perhaps,
likely the only one in this slave dormitory,
he had become a slave of his own volition.
He sold his own life for the lives of others—his family.
"They're all still living there, right......?"
The reason Mophin had a complex about money was simple.
His family had been dirt poor.
For others, lack of money was a livelihood issue.
For his family, it was a matter of survival.
Mophin's father was the sort halfway between beast and man,
so he rutted with relentless vigor.
Mophin's mother was so frail she could barely walk,
yet she showed horrifying tenacity when bearing children.
So Mophin had many siblings.
That more lives are conceived in poverty
is the mystery of life passed down from ancient times.
"The outing permit is expensive, but...... I can afford it. I'll have to eat only black bread for a month, but......"
Mophin could sell his soul for money.
He could brainwash and educate fellow slaves, and if allowed, wield the whip.
No.
Those were things anyone could do.
Mophin's obsession with money went further.
Mophin......
could discard even his own flesh if it meant money.
In fact, hadn't he sold himself to a merchant for a few gold coins?
He sold for a fairly high price.
His own value was higher than cheap slaves, so he got a good price.
With that money, he could change his family's lives—
so he sold his own body.
"......A letter. Did they get it?"
Mophin was a money-grubber.
And to him, money was ultimately just a tool to protect his family.
It meant something more important than money still remained for Mophin.
"Purchase. Outing permit."
.
.
.
For the first time, Mophin walked the streets not as 'baggage' or 'merchandise', but as a 'person'.
No one paid him any attention.
He'd worried someone might notice he was a slave and pick a fight,
but surprisingly, people paid no heed to each other.
"......This feels awkward."
Mophin suddenly looked down at his clothes.
They were thin and loose-fitting.
The slave brand was completely hidden by the wide fabric.
By custom, slaves weren't supposed to cover their brands,
but since his master permitted it, there was no issue.
He was wandering the streets on his own like this,
but House Riddle soldiers were stationed around him for escort and surveillance.
Watching him quietly from afar,
it almost felt like they were protecting him, which was awkward.
'......If I go straight to Mother, she'll be shocked.'
In his bosom was a pouch of coins.
Not a large sum, but...
Enough to get by for a day in a suitable place.
That was the extent of his possessions.
He'd exchanged all his Talant for coins, so now Mophin was practically penniless.
Coins were less familiar to him than Talant.
Even holding them now didn't stir much excitement.
'Maybe buy a gift...... on the way.'
He planned to stay the night at 'home' anyway.
Home was just a tiny space smaller than a chicken coop in a cheap communal tenement like a henhouse,
but in this era, even that was fairly luxurious.
Yes. Mophin's parents were truly luxurious people.
To have relations inside a house in this era.
They hadn't even earned the money properly to rent it,
but barely borrowed it from a friend with some leeway.
Mophin's parents were surely the type oblivious to shame.
That's why they mated in front of their children
and clung to friends to somehow sleep indoors.
"......"
As he bought the gift, he realized anew,
but the streetscape was a utter mess.
The river had stopped.
So much filth had dissolved into the water that it had thickened,
flowing slowly like mud rather than water.
The air was acrid.
With all sorts of dirt and ash floating around,
even the sunbeams' rays
reflected white in the air, visible to the naked eye.
"The farm air was so clean......"
Anew,
farm slaves rarely came to the city.
Lately, with the slave dispatch business allowing more flexible use of slaves,
each slave still had fixed roles.
And since Mophin had taken on the side job of instructor, he couldn't be dispatched anyway.
So this was Mophin's first time in the city in ages.
When others thought of 'hometown' as rural warmth and nostalgia,
Mophin associated 'hometown' with the city's acrid air, filthy water, and wretched poverty.
This was his hometown.
His family was here.
"Mother!"
"Why are you......?"
And the family's reaction upon meeting him
was far from what Mophin expected.
"......Mother?"
It was absolutely not the gaze of joyful family reunion.
Not the lack of realism of a dream.
It was a twisted expression, as if some unpleasant foreign substance had intruded into reality.